


Broken Inside

by CornMuffinsMama



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s02e10 What They Become
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:05:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CornMuffinsMama/pseuds/CornMuffinsMama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant Ward and Agent 33 are on the run together after Skye shot Ward. When a song comes on the radio that makes Ward think of Skye, he must wrestle with his feelings and memories, with the knowledge of who he is and what he has done. Takes place immediately after the Season 2 mid-season finale, What The Become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Broken Inside takes place almost immediately after the end of the Season 2 Winter finale (S2E10, What They Become). I highly encourage listening to Coldplay's song "Fix You" either before reading this or while you read the last part, when Ward is listening to the song.
> 
> This is the first fanfic I've ever written (I've read a lot but never ventured into writing my own). I hope you like it and I look forwards to hearing your thoughts. Enjoy. :)
> 
> I do not own the rights to Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., any of the characters, or Coldplay's songs.

Ward sat in the passenger seat of the pickup truck Agent 33 had hotwired. He looked over at where she sat on the driver’s side; he noticed her hands gripping the steering wheel with a death grip, belying the casual and unconcerned expression on her face… oh God, her face. It was just plain weird to be sitting beside someone who looked exactly like Melinda May. Well, exactly like May *if* you ignored the huge scar on one side of her face, where her Photostatic Veil had been damaged and her face badly injured.

She spoke up, her eyes still on the road. “You should probably pay less attention to me and more attention to those bullet wounds.”

Ward shrugged, gritted his teeth, and adjusted the dressing he was holding in place, thinking that it was doubly weird to be hearing her speak with a slightly electronic-sounding copy of May’s voice. “It’s not like I can do anything while we’re driving. Besides, I’ve had worse.”

 She rolled her eyes. “Such a guy.”

He shrugged again. “I got used to pain a long time ago.”

She glanced at him briefly, then looked ahead again. “I’m pretty surprised that she shot you, to be honest. I didn’t think she had it in her.”

Ward immediately tensed up. “Skye is a good agent.”

Agent 33 gave him another fleeting glance. “I didn’t say she isn’t. I said I didn’t think she had it in her. I meant from an emotional perspective. It takes some steel to shoot a person you love.”

Ward said “Love. Right. Not so much.”

Agent 33 raised an eyebrow. “I think there’s something there and it goes both ways.”

Ward shook his head, then grimaced against his will as his wounded torso protested the motion. “It’s no secret that I love Skye. She’s probably the only person in this world I can say I truly love. But that feeling is definitely not reciprocated anymore. Maybe before, but not now. Not since…” he stopped and looked out his window.

Agent 33 replied “The level of anger she showed? There’s no way she doesn’t still feel something. Anger is the other side of the coin. You don’t get that angry towards a person you don’t care about.”

Ward sighed. “Yeah, you do, when they’ve betrayed you and your whole team, when they’ve killed people, tried to kill people you love, and kidnapped you multiple times.”  
  
Agent 33 shrugged. “I know what I saw, what I heard in her voice. She cares. It might be buried pretty deep – in fact, it probably is, under the frustration and broken trust, because you definitely screwed multiple pooches pretty hard. But it’s still there.”

Ward scowled. “I don’t want to talk about Skye.” Really, the last thing he wanted was a lecture about her, or anyone or anything else from the team, especially not from someone who looked and sounded so much like May.

Agent 33 risked another glance at him. “Just because you don’t want to hear it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Ward’s lips pressed together in the thin line that Agent 33 would eventually come to learn was a sign that he was annoyed or angry or something along those lines. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice had an edge.

Agent 33 said quietly “Maybe you need to. Burying things doesn’t usually do any good.”

Ward’s face turned into a mask, but his eyes shot daggers at her, his voice became cold and hard. “I said, drop it. Now.”

Agent 33 shrugged again. “Ok.” She turned the radio on and fiddled with the buttons, looking for a station that didn’t have an obnoxious DJ yammering on. The radio tuned to a station that seemed to play a mix of everything, she settled into silence, becoming lost in her own thoughts. Ward leaned his head against the window and, somewhat against his will, became lost in memories, thinking back over happier times before Skye knew he was a traitor, before she knew he was working for The Clairvoyant, before she knew Garrett was the Clairvoyant. Happier times when Skye trusted him.

On the radio, Linkin Park’s song ended and the sounds of Coldplay came through the speakers. Appropriately enough, it was “Fix You.” He had once thought maybe Skye could… not fix him, help him fix himself. Help him find himself. Help him put himself back together. Because despite his polished veneer, he was indisputably broken on the inside, broken from years of abuse and neglect at the hands of first his biological family (he hated to call them that), then – in his own way – Garrett.

_“When you try your best but you don’t succeed._   
_When you get what you want, but not what you need._   
_When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep._   
_Stuck in reverse.”_

That was him. Agent Grant Ward, specialist at blowing things up and hurting people. Unfortunately, good at hurting people he cared about. Stuck in reverse nailed it, nailed him.

_“And the tears come streaming down your face._   
_When you lose something you can’t replace._   
_When you love someone, but it goes to waste._   
_Could it be worse?”_

He bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to maintain control. He hadn’t cried in a lot of years. More than he could count. He didn’t really like to try to remember when the last time was, actually. And he didn’t care to start the clock over again today. Especially not in a truck with Agent 33. He wouldn’t give in to the weakness of emotions.

_“Lights will guide you home._   
_And ignite your bones._   
_And I will try to fix you.”_

Agent 33 pulled in to a rest stop. “I’ve got to use the bathroom and grab a drink. You should probably stay here so nobody sees that you’ve been shot.” Ward barely heard her, lost in memories, seeing only Skye’s brown eyes laughing at him as they played Battleship on the Bus.

_“And high above or down below,_   
_When you’re too in love to let it go._   
_But if you never try you’ll never know_   
_Just what you’re worth.”_

It had taken him so long to realize he loved her. He’d been frantic when he saw her lying on the floor in the basement of the house in Italy, bleeding from where Ian Quinn had shot her in the abdomen. In that moment, when he felt like he’d been shot too, when he was unable to catch his breath as fear wrapped tentacles around his heart as he feared he had lost her, he started to realize how much of an impact she’d had on him.

_“Lights will guide you home._   
_And ignite your bones._   
_And I will try to fix you.”_

He flashed back to the church where he’d taken up the Berserker staff to defend his team, how Skye had helped him up off the floor as May had taken over, and to the hotel bar afterwards when Skye told him she was there if he needed to talk. She’d sensed that the memories triggered by the Berserker Staff had to do with his brothers, and had sensed how deep the wounds were that he was hiding. Her eyes had been so concerned and open, so caring. He’d thought then that if anyone could help him become whole, it would be Skye. But he hadn’t let her. Instead, he’d lost her, and he doubted that she’d ever let him find her again, ever be able to trust him.

_“Tears stream down your face_   
_When you lose something you cannot replace._   
_Tears stream down your face_   
_and I…”_

But he hadn’t let her in, hadn’t let her try. He’d come closer  to it, opened up more than he had with anyone else, but he hadn’t really let go and trusted her to help him, hadn’t done the right thing. Instead, he’d lost her, and he doubted that she’d ever let him find her again, ever be able to trust him.  
  
 _“Tears stream down your face_  
 _When you lose something you cannot replace._  
 _Tears stream down your face_  
 _and I…_  
  
 _Lights will guide you home._  
 _And ignite your bones._  
 _And I will try to fix you.”_

Ward groaned, slammed his fist against the dashboard. He welcomed the pain that the movement brought. It was a small comfort to feel physically what he was fighting inside. But, he still didn’t let the tears fall from his eyes. He couldn’t afford to appear weaker than he already did by virtue of the bullets Skye had put into him, accompanied by the fire that leapt from her eyes and scorched his conscience, damning him for his treachery and betrayals. He closed his eyes and called on his training, took deep even breaths and intentionally relaxed each muscle, forcing emotions and thoughts into boxes in the back of his mind, compartmentalizing as Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. had both taught him how to do, and do well. He would regain control of how he felt and of the image he presented. It was the only option.

By the time Agent 33 got back in the truck and turned the keys, he once again looked calm and impassive, his face a blank but mostly polite mask, betraying nothing of the turmoil within. No tears escaped from his eyes; instead, they built up within his heart and began to crack the stony barricade he had spent so many years building to protect himself from the hurt that could only be inflicted by people you allowed yourself to care about. For now, he was solid and immoveable. On the outside, he was once more the calculating specialist who cared about no one but himself. But on the inside… on the inside, where nobody but him could see, the ache built, gathered strength. One day, he would give way to the cracks in his heart, to the ache of loss, to the tears uncried for so long. One day…

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Skye shot Ward, what kind of impact has his betrayal had on her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned for Broken Inside to be a single chapter one-shot. I thought it was complete in and of itself, and really all I wanted to do was to get inside Ward's head and explore what his perspective might have been. But then time went on and I started getting ideas, and people really seemed to like it, and I couldn't get enough of SkyeWard. And then I thought "Why stop with Ward's perspective? I wonder how Skye would feel about the same song?" and I wanted to explore her thoughts.  
> So, here we are. This chapter isn't necessarily concurrent exactly with Chapter 1. I mean, it's not like they're hearing the song on the same station at the same time, but it's an exploration of the same song at a similar timeframe from a different POV.  
> For the first part, I listened to Rammstein's songs "Du Hast" and "Feur Frie", the original German versions. The sound is what inspired me and resonated, listening to the English version is definitely not necessary. I would encourage you to listen if you're not familiar. For the second part, of course, I listened to Coldplay's "Fix You". Also a good one to listen to before or during the appropriate part of the story.  
> A few of you asked for more to the story, voila. Enjoy. :)  
> All the usual disclaimers apply. I own nothing, etc. etc.

Skye groaned as she heard her alarm clock go off and reached over and hit the "off" button, knocking the clock off the nightstand in the process. "Stupid clock," she grumbled as she hauled it up by the cord and set it back in its place. The glowing red numbers said it was 5:00am. Way too early to be getting up. Or so she would have thought once upon a time, in what felt like a different life lived by a different person. But she supposed she was a different person now, in more ways than one. Oh well. It wasn't like she had been sleeping well anyways. She rolled out of bed and quickly changed into workout clothes, sitting on the bed to lace up her shoes. She headed to the gym, set up the punching bag, and wrapped her hands. She took a deep breath, put her hands up, and started attacking with vicious blows.

After a little while, the back of her neck tingled. She took one last swing, smiling with a sort of grim satisfaction at how the bag swung when her fists connected. She stared at it for a second and then turned around, swiping futilely at her forehead with arms that were equally sweaty. "Been there long?"

May just shrugged. "Long enough. You're getting some good hits in, your form is improving." She nodded approvingly and tossed over a dry towel. "Here, this might work better. It's dry."

Skye rolled her eyes while she wiped at the sweat, and smiled grimly. "It helps to imagine a person," she said while motioning vaguely to the punching bag.

The corners of May's mouth twitched up in what – for her – constituted a smile. "I think I can guess who you're imagining."

Skye just shrugged and raised an eyebrow in an expressive gesture. "Probably the same person you picture in your workouts."

May nodded. "I got all that out already, on him directly. I don't have to imagine. I can just remember it."

Skye nodded. "Lucky. A few rounds with a gun wasn't hands on enough for me."

May just stared at her.

Skye shrugged again. "Is it so surprising that I hate him?"

May crossed her arms. "I'm not so sure you hate him, Skye."

Skye laughed bitterly. "Well, I'm definitely not indifferent."

"Hatred and indifference aren't the only options."

"What are you saying, May?"

May gazed at her steadily. "There are two sides to every coin. What's the opposite of hate?"

Skye gave her a strange look. "Um… love?"

May just quirked an eyebrow, communicating volumes with the simple gesture, in the way that only she could.

Skye snorted. "Maybe before," she bit out, "but he definitely ruined that. There's no way I still care about that jackass." She paused, appearing to reconsider. "Well," she amended, "there's no way I still care in a positive way. Ward can go jump out of a plane into the ocean as far as I'm concerned."

May continued staring at her with the same look that said "Oh, really?" without words.

Skye started laughing. "May, it's not like I'm just pretending to hate him while I secretly pine like a schoolgirl with a crush."

"Did I say you were?" May's eyes softened a little. "Skye, I know you genuinely cared about Ward. You two had a connection that went deep. A connection he and I never had, that I never saw him have with anyone. And he legitimately cared for you too. He wasn't faking that. And the thing about love is that even when you're betrayed, it doesn't just turn off. It may change, or feel and look different, but it's still there, even if it's got a different face. But you don't just stop loving someone like that, even when they hurt you. If you really didn't care, you wouldn't still feel so strongly. You wouldn't feel much at all, you wouldn't care either way."

Skye stared at May. "Whoa."

May raised an eyebrow again. "What?"

"I had no idea you could say that much at one time." Skye smirked.

May rolled her eyes, turned, and headed for the door. "Whatever you say," she said over her shoulder and she walked briskly out of the room.

Skye glared at the retreating figure and resumed punching. "I… do… not… still… care!" she grunted with each blow to the punching bag. It was therapeutic, channeling all her pent up frustration, anger, and maybe even a little hurt into her swings, every one connecting solidly with a satisfying "thud".

A little while later, Skye let the swinging punching bag slow to a standstill and unwrapped her hands. She grabbed earphones for the iPhone that was in an exercise band around her upper arm and headed outside to go for a run. As she slipped in the earbuds and hit "play", she started jogging in place slowly, then began running, choosing a route that would take her on trails through the woods rather than sticking to the streets. She focused her breathing and worked to match her steps and the pumps of her arms, falling quickly into a rhythm that matched the music streaming through her earphones. The steady beat of the music combined with the familiar routine of running one of her favorite trails quickly began to comfort her.

For a while, the music was angry in sound. She had been listening to a lot of Rammstein lately, and the harsh guttural sounds of the German band singing "Du Hast", "Feur Frie", and similar sounding songs matched the dark mood she had been in since waking up. She didn't have to understand the German lyrics for the music to resonate with her soul. She ran faster, her feet pounding the dirt angrily as she sped through the woods following the trail on its gentle incline, her hands clenched tightly in fists. The exercise serving as both an outlet for her barely contained rage and a way to focus her mind and her emotions. Lately, it seemed like her thoughts went in a thousand different directions at once, with her feelings being similarly jumbled. She knew that, if she were at all honest with herself, she had to admit that May was right. Her feelings about Ward were strongly conflicted and not nearly as simple and negative as she had tried to convince herself and everyone around her. Her nostrils flared and it wasn't from the effort of running.

Before too long, she saw her halfway point ahead. When she took this route, she ran to the end of the trail and then took a short breather before running back the way she came. She was almost to that spot. She began to slow her pace, preferring to slowly wind down to a stop rather than quitting cold turkey, having discovered that the former was a lot easier on both her legs and her lungs. As she slowed to a walk, the trees thinned and more sunlight made its way to her. Suddenly, the path – which had been slowly widening – ended as she exited the trees. She bent over for a second, resting her hands on her knees as she forced herself to take slow, even, deep breaths, feeling her heart rate begin to slow. She walked a few more steps to where the ground suddenly ended in a drop-off and plopped down on the bench.

The view from here was spectacular. From this vantage point, on a clear day, you could see for miles. The hills rolled gently in the distance. A river that began somewhere down below sparkled in the sun as it danced along below on its course that took it into the hills, disappearing around a bend. This place was one of the most beautiful Skye had ever seen, almost haunting in both its loveliness and loneliness. Because this was, if nothing else, secluded. This was a place Skye had stumbled upon and loved for its solitude. It was where she came when she needed quiet and distance from people, when she needed to be alone with her thoughts. And right now, she was acutely aware of how alone she was in an emotional sense as well as physically.

Skye tucked her feet up on the bench, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees, beginning to feel pensive. Almost as though it could sense her shifting mood, the music playing on her phone switched to a new song with a completely different sound. She laughed bitterly, with a slight hitch to her breathing, as she heard the unmistakable opening notes of Coldplay's "Fix You".

"Damn it," she said, sighing. She looked up at the clouds. "Really?" She leaned against the bench, listening to the lyrics, relenting and letting the song unlock that part of her emotions that she had been keeping under such tight control.

" _When you try your best, but you don't succeed,_  
_When you get what you want, but not what you need,_  
_When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep,_  
_Stuck in reverse._ "

She laughed bitterly. Tired didn't begin to describe what she felt lately. It was more like a bone-crushing exhaustion that was both physical and emotional. She wasn't sleeping well. When she did sleep, she dreamed. She dreamed of being shot, or she dreamed of the moment she realized the truth about Ward. That particular nightmare always started with blood dripping down from the ceiling… she shuddered, trying not to see Eric Koenig's face pressed against a wire rack above her, his eyes staring sightlessly at the floor below him from the place where Ward had so unceremoniously stuffed his body. She shook her head slightly, clearing the images from her brain. She hated feeling like she was stuck in the past. She was so sick of loving and losing and never really getting over the losses. But could you ever get over it when you lost everyone you loved and trusted, from the time you were a baby? That was part of what made Ward's betrayal sting so much. He had promised her that the team would be her family, would always be there for you, but he had just been lying. She gritted her teeth as she felt her eyes burning, moisture welling up, as the pain she held so close and worked so hard to hide sought a much-needed physical release.

" _And the tears come streaming down your face,_  
_When you lose something you can't replace,_  
_When you love someone, but it goes to waste,_  
_Could it be worse?_ "

A single tear escaped and slid down her cheek. She clenched her jaw and wiped her eyes angrily. "Screw you, Grant Ward." And as she said his name, as Coldplay sang on, the dam within her burst, and she gave way, allowing sobs to rack her body, her slender form shaking. "I loved you and you USED that, you used ME!" It hadn't taken her long at all to fall for him. At first it had been a purely physical attraction, nothing more than a crush on a really hot guy. But as she had gotten to know him, it had shifted into something deeper. And when she had been shot, she had realized she didn't want to go through life without loving someone and knowing love. And she had thought that was when he had really started to open up his feelings to her too…

" _Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones,_  
_I will try to fix you._ "

She grimaced, memories flashing back unbidden, remembering Grant wielding the Berserker Staff and the toll it had taken, the memories it had stirred up, how she had seen that raw place inside him. "I know that wasn't fake," she whispered brokenly. "That was probably the most real anyone ever saw you. That broken and terribly hurting child that came through…" She took a shuddering breath, remembering the stark anguish she had seen in him that day and remembering her offer to listen if he needed to talk.

" _And high up above or down below,_  
_When you're too in love to let it go._  
_But if you never try you'll never know_  
_Just what you're worth._ "

Her pain shifted slightly as she remembered what Ward had told her of his childhood, what she had gathered from other conversations – both with him and overheard - and the few glimpses she had gotten of his family history in his file. Combined with what she had glimpsed as he fought using the Berserker Staff, it was no wonder Garrett had chosen him to mold. So much pain through his life, so much betrayal. He was so broken, like a delicate piece of glass dropped on the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces, then put back together with Elmer's Glue. "When you think about it," she whispered, "it's like a hurt dog that lashes out at anyone who gets too close."

" _Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones_  
_I will try to fix you._ "

She laughed bitterly. "I tried, Ward," she said out loud, looking out towards the hills. "I tried to help you, I could have helped you if you had let me instead of stabbing me in the damn back and then twisting the knife in." She took another shuddering breath. "But maybe that's the problem," she thought. "Maybe you can't really fix someone else. Especially when you're broken yourself." She hiccupped slightly, tears still running down her face.

" _Tears stream down your face_  
_When you lose something you cannot replace_  
_Tears stream down your face and I_  
_Tears stream down your face_  
_I promise you I will learn from my mistakes_  
_Tears stream down your face and I…_ "

Skye sighed deeply and laid her cheek against her knees, hugging herself, curling into a ball, trying to shield herself from so many feelings, from the pain of remembering what she had felt. Because remembering how much she had loved Ward, thinking about how happy he had made her just by walking into a room, recalling how well they worked together as though they were extensions of the same mind and body, just intensified the pain of his betrayal, of learning that he was a sleeper agent for Hydra, of realizing he had killed people on their team and had been lying to her about God only knows what all, and of what she had lost in losing him.

" _Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones_  
_And I will try to fix you._ "

She held herself tightly and her sobs intensified, again shaking her body so hard her bones all but rattled, her muscles clenched against a pain that was so fierce as to hurt physically, piercing her heart. And as she cried, the birds sang a mournful song as they kept vigil over her, clouds covered the sun, and the river danced on, roiling a little as the wind picked up. As Skye laid her heart bare, the wind sighed and caressed her hair, the stillness a strangely comforting companion. As she wept, Coldplay sang on, almost as though bearing witness to her heartache and turmoil.

" _Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones_  
_And I will try to fix you._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may end up doing another chapter or two. I think this could stand alone just as an examination of how Skye and Ward felt after things went really to pieces and she shot him, but I could see it continuing on too. Please review and let me know if you want more. :D I'm getting ready to move (like, homes, one place to another) and am currently back to being a SAHM, so I can't guarantee when I'll get more out if anything happens, but I'm more likely to get inspired if I think people will read it. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any formatting errors. AO3's editor has been giving me some problems on that front.


End file.
